Chester disliked confrontation ever since entering Neighborhood Saldivar at age seven. A kid handed his ass to him on the first day thinking he cut the line for haircuts and women arguing in his vicinity brought back awful memories of home life. Before Van or Racket explained why they tried to beat the crap out of each other Chester fled from the situation.
Garth hissed, "Coward!"
"Go away," he snapped, "This is no time for fighting."
"Chet! Where are you going?" Van shouted.
He waited until reaching the hallway of his room before spinning around. Garth trailed behind Racket and Van. Their faces showed slight bruising, and he crossed his arms defensively.
Van gazed with those bright green orbs and his heart slowed when she also smiled, seeming happy to see him after a few days apart. He couldn't tear his eyes away, even when Racket asked why he wouldn't talk to them.
"Saldivar's here." Van declared.
"I know," he leaned against the cool wall, "What do you want?"
"Hello?" Racket snapped her fingers in his face closer than he thought she stood, "How dare you ignore me! Did Saldivar speak to you?"
Van stepped forward, the three of them forming a tight triangle of mixed signals and emotions. He felt at a disadvantage pinned against the wall, and his left eye twitched in aggravation.
"Back up!" he growled at both women, smirking at their surprised expressions.
Van took a few steps backward giving Racket room to inch closer, her hot breath lashing across his cheek when she yelled, "Watch your fucking tone, Chet! Don't forget I'm in charge. Answer my question."
Chester gripped Racket by the shoulders, swinging around until she slammed into the wall. His hands latched onto her throat, fed up with her demanding, tyrannical demeanor. It was bad enough knowing Spell spouted lies about his mental state but to put up with a woman who constantly berated and questioned his manhood made Chester's self-control snap.
"Chet!" Van grasped his straining arms as he choked Racket with concentrated fury, "What's wrong with you? Let her go!"
Racket's dark eyes lit up seconds before she kicked his knee and performed a maneuver that laid him flat on his back wheezing for air. The bitch loved riling his anger only to fuck him up. He moved to stand, but Racket stomped a boot on his chest, smiling maniacally.
Van punched Racket in the throat, causing the woman to flail backward gasping for breath, unlike Chester's strangulation. Garth finally intervened, holding Racket back so Van could help Chester off the floor. The four of them were in a screaming match when Saldivar and Susan Potter rushed from the other end of the corridor to intervene.
"What are you doing?" Saldivar demanded, looking at the women with obvious disappointment, "Is this how you've been behaving? Has perdido la cabeza?"
Garth let Rocket go and Van stepped aside with a sheepish expression. Rocket rubbed her throat, glaring at Chester as if Saldivar wasn't there. She looked bat-shit crazy with her butchered hair sticking out every which way.
"I'm sorry, sir," Van stood tall, "It won't happen again."
"Are you okay Chester?" Potter kindly asked.
He nodded, back aching and lungs not taking enough air yet to respond.
"Vanyla attacked me in the mess hall and had the gall," Rocket moved until standing beside Saldivar, facing them like a scolding bunk monitor, "to accuse me of mistreating Chester and abuse of authority! I explained your orders, but she doesn't believe me."
YOU ARE READING
Chester And The 24-hour Lottery
Science Fiction"Chester Drivel," he was given a tight-lipped smile, "We look forward to watching what a man such as yourself can accomplish in 24 hours. It is twenty seconds to midnight. Are you ready?" The crowd was turning. Chester dodged a shoe and heard someon...
